A Moment in Two Parts
by Lady M28
Summary: A family event leads to a conversation.
1. Part 1

**A Moment in Two Parts**

"Fuck," I breathe, my thumb stabbing at the screen of my phone to disengage the line.

"Rory's coming home?" a chipper Finn strides over to refill my glass.

"Richard's dead," I mumble, groping for my glass of scotch, gulping it down.

"Gilmore?" he asks.

"Of course, Gilmore," I growl back, snatching the scotch bottle out of his hand, splashing more in my glass.

"Shit, Logan. I was trying to not jump to the worst possible conclusion," he replies.

"When has Rory been to the East Coast since I moved back except to let me see the kids for a few days and go see Lorelai, Emily and Richard?" I shoot back.

"She hasn't," he agrees. "But then it's not like you've even talked to her or tried to win her back since you came back, either."

"You think I don't want Rory back?" I fumble, the incredulity obvious in my voice. "You think I don't want my wife and my kids back with me?" Honestly what he's saying doesn't even make sense.

"No, you've wanted her back on your terms."

"What the hell does that even mean?" I shoot back.

"That you can keep the job so you can continue to rub it in Daddy Mitchum's face that you can do his job even though he's not the one that groomed you or taught you how to do it. You've wanted her to surrender to your terms instead of a negotiated compromise," he says like he's explaining something to my five year old - he's seen more of her recently than I have, mostly living in the small guest house on the property of Rory's and my home. But Colin had business out West, so they switched places for a bit. Well, business and a need to ditch his new wife - I'm still not sure why he got married in the first place.

I stare at the dark amber liquid, thinking back to when drinking scotch was rebellious, not a habit - like that time we stole Richard's scotch and replaced it with tea.

It makes the corner of my mouth raise. I can't help it. Rory looked so beautiful that night, even with tears streaming down her face as she got her heart broken in front of a bunch of guys she barely knew. So determined she wasn't going to be this person Richard and Emily seemed to think she was destined to be - some anachronism from the forties, fifties or sixties that gave perfect parties, always having the perfect anecdote to engage her guests, but no true inner life of her own. No purpose of her own other than supporting her perfectly chosen husband and raising his children.

The vision of her that matched up with my own family's vision. The one neither of us ever wanted or even understood.

When did drinking scotch become just what I did, instead of a silly act of rebellion to piss off my dad? When did doing things my dad and granddad did become my destination rather than something to avoid?

Did I come back because I knew I could do the job or because I wanted to prove a point to the mighty Mitchum Huntzberger? Is Finn right? That I could come in and take over HPG after his bypass - not because he groomed me, but because I had learned all of the skills I needed to run HPG the hard way. On my own. Was coming home my ultimate act of rebellion?

Except it wasn't just me. It was we. It was us.

We built a life and a company and a family together. A life we made together away from the chaos of my family. Me and her. She and I.

A life I love and one that in no way resembles this half life existence I've been living for the last nine months. A life of brilliant colors and laughter and the patter of small feet running through the house and the joyous sounds of happy children - both seen and heard. Of birthdays celebrated just because you want to remember how happy you were the day they were each born.

"How can you go back after everything he's put us through? After he's thrown up roadblocks at every opportunity, making things harder for us at every turn!"

She isn't wrong. In fact, my wife has a way of being right almost all the time. A way of being right and not rubbing it in my face even though I tend to assume that conclusion, somehow hearing the echoes of my parents' fights in my head even though my marriage has never been anything like theirs.

No, the life I built with her is nothing like the life that the family had imagined for the two of us back at that disastrous dinner so long ago.

But then this isn't the life we built together, I acknowledge, looking up at the perfect view of Central Park South and the ice skating rink that the spacious apartment courtesy of HPG affords me.

Our life together is more bridge and tunnel, more DIY on the weekend - because while we can justify using trust fund money to buy a nice place, we couldn't justify getting one that's in perfect shape or brand new and we certainly couldn't get something and just pay workers to do everything while the two of us only supervise and give orders. We chose to live a different life. A better and happier one.

My wife is coming home - Rory's coming home. And I have no idea what to expect, I'm not even sure I know what home is anymore. Home has been her for the last ten years - it's been us, not just the house we live in. It certainly isn't an apartment in New York that she's deliberately avoided for the last nine months. This isn't the way I imagined a reunion with her and the kids in my mind - " _Fuck_!"

TBC

 **endnote**

This is the first _Gilmore Girls_ story I've written in over eight years. I want to thank my beta, **jstcallmesmitty** who held my hand through trying to make this work. This is as much writing exercise as anything, trying to find voices again. Thank you to anyone who reads, favorites  & comments are much appreciated. Second part will be up in a few days.


	2. Chapter 2

**Part 2**

"I'll see you there," I reply, disengaging the phone, sniffling loudly.

"You look like you could use this," Colin says, handing me a glass of red wine.

I take it, gulping down a drink and then coughing when I gulp down too much.

"Go down the wrong way?" he asks, giving me a firm whack on my back.

"Thanks," I nod after I finish my coughing jag.

"You know I'm here to help," he replies, one corner of his mouth lifting.

"I know, but there's not a lot you can really do," I say, my shoulders falling.

"With getting the kids back east or helping you piece back together your life?" he asks.

How Colin and Finn became the only people I've been able to be at all honest with since Logan went home, I'm not sure. They've been good friends to me, besides being Logan's longtime best friends. They're kinda like the brothers I never knew I wanted - I got stuck with them because of Logan, but somehow they've risen to the occasion lately. They're the only thing holding all of us together since Mitchum's bypass, when Shira begged Logan to come home and keep HPG from imploding - "It's called Huntzberger Publishing Group, how is it supposed to function without a Huntzberger at the helm?" And Logan went.

Except that isn't home, not anymore. It's where we both grew up. It's where we met. This is home now - at least it is to me. This house we bought not long after we had our first baby five years ago. The house we lovingly redid as much of ourselves as possible - learning to refinish floors, paint, Logan learning to do minor plumbing repairs. The house where we replanted our avocado tree and then had to wait two years before it produced fruit again - fruit I've let spoil and rot for the last nine months because I can't bear to even look at or touch an avocado.

The kids love Finn, maybe because he's still a child himself. For a few weeks it papered over the fact that their father isn't here. The questions turning from "When is Daddy coming home?" to, "Is Daddy coming home?" Questions I don't know the answers to. Ones I've been afraid to ask because I'm afraid of the replies.

Finn doesn't distract anyone anymore. Now he's more a reminder of who and what is missing - father, husband, lover, best friend, partner. A reminder that the only person who can fill that void is the one person I've been too scared to ask. A reminder that the man living in our little guest house in the garden isn't the man that's supposed to be living in our house, tucking in our kids and sleeping beside me at night. The man I haven't seen for two months since the last time the kids saw Logan - he came out here but Finn took them to him.

Of course Colin is here now and no one would call him a distraction or good with children. He claims he has business out here, but he's really just using it as an excuse to avoid his own inexplicable life choices - marrying one of his many step siblings.

I set my wine glass on the island counter, shaking my head. "I don't know," I sigh, shaking my head, wiping my eyes.

Have my tears been for Grandpa or myself and the shambles I've allowed my marriage to become over the last nine months?

"Maybe this is the wake up call both of you needed," Colin says, interrupting my thoughts.

"Wake up call?" You reply, trying to not sound offended that he's using Grandpa's death to get me to admit to being in the wrong.

"Yes," he nods. "A reminder that time is something you can't get back. That no matter how much you might love someone, you only get so long."

"Oh," I feel tears begin to well again, remembering Grandpa will never again have a book he wants to show me, or anecdote he wants to share, or words of wisdom to offer or be my port in every storm. I'll never again pick up the phone to find out he randomly called because he was thinking of me and wanted to hear my voice. None of those things will ever happen again.

My breath catches when I think of all the things Grandma will never get to experience again, which reminds me of what I haven't experienced the last nine months.

"The two of you are my best friends. You're my family," he continues. "You're also two incredibly proud and stubborn people. Incredibly proud and stubborn people who love one another very much and have been too scared of all you have to lose to actually talk to one another. But nothing's going to repair itself without one or both of you breaking the ice."

It's amazing sometimes the insights Colin offers. Perhaps it's because he's both close to the two of us and an outside observer at the same time. Perhaps because he's watched so many marriages disintegrate around him. But he's right, something has to bend. It has to bend before it becomes brittle and ultimately breaks.

The knot in my stomach says I'm not ready and scared shitless at the same time. But then I'm not sure I'm ever going to be ready - for the conversations I need to have with Logan or to make a decision to end things and move on.

This isn't the way I've imagined a reunion, but then life and Logan have taught me that nothing is ever as I imagined. Sometimes it's worse, but sometimes it's also better. Sometimes it's extraordinary.

FIN

This is it for this story. Thank you to everyone who has or will comment, fave or follow the story. It's always appreciated.

Many thanks to my beta **justcallmesmitty** for helping me kick off the rust from my writing skills. I'm working on something else, but it'll be a couple weeks at least till I'm ready for it to go out into the world. It's a sequel to my personal favorite thing I've ever written, _She - a working title_. I fiddled with the idea back after I wrote the story, but never did because I didn't want to just write another version of them getting together a different way. What keeps me interested is finding unique perspectives  & ideas. With a couple things that have come out about the revival I think I finally found how to continue that universe but in a unique way. If you're completely spoiler free, wait to read it. The spoilers aren't huge, IMO, but I'm not spoiler free.

So, this time it's a see you soon, not eight years from now.


End file.
